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Scribe
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Ha Ha! We Are Poor!
While we can just sing out charades, we belong to her
Lie here. It's your turn to wait! Now, back to me!
Everybody's some kind of liar. Oh, I'm still not sure.
I could just pop out this lie like the tossin' of a syllable like a fly on a pie.
Cos I got toddlers. Little shits. Scamperin' about this guy. He's invisible this guy.
But it ain't me or the posse or the snotty nosed lassie. How's this for synecdoche?
Serenity in obscenity is what is worth in vulgarity
Crossbow the ages to forge her.
Pierce the kin through benign roads of mortar.
No messiah this time, only...
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Who wish you'd forget them when they die.
Not too late.
We're not too late.
What? We're not too late. Tell them now, we're not too late.
We can sing out charades, we belong to her
Lie here. Cos it's your turn to wait! Lie here!
You could just lie here.
Everybody's some kind of liar.
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